


Ressentiment

by quietrook



Category: Eerie Crests (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, past Solhsinger, sfsdff, warning for sudden ending, what i mean is its a happy ending for a brief second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietrook/pseuds/quietrook
Summary: Blake splits and leaves practice; he's followed out by someone.





	Ressentiment

**Author's Note:**

> slowly making my comeback to EC fic after a long break with my fave character sfsifd  
> i also take requests/comms

It was resent. Resent, and nothing else it could possibly be.  It was the fact that Blake had been in that position, had been closer than Dallas Margolin had  _ ever  _ been, and had nothing to show for it, now. It was the fact that he felt like Malek never cared about him, not even a percentage of what he obviously felt for that second-rate pitcher. It was annoying. It was infuriating.

 

Most of all? It  _ hurt. _

 

How much time had he spent? Time just being  _ friends _ with Malek, which had been long enough. Time in the relationship, which had been too short but somehow overstretched. Time supporting him. Time, time, time. All to be tossed aside for someone Malek had known less than a  _ year. _

 

Blake would sit on the bench when he wasn’t playing, and he would watch them talk. Malek’s eyes, lighting up in ways he’d never seen directed at him. Smiles. Jokes. Casual touches. Indicating factors that Malek had feelings deeper for Dallas than he had ever had for Blake.

 

Anger. Swinging too hard for the ball. Missing. Not being fast enough on base. Dropping the ball. It was missing one of Margolin’s piss poor pitches that really set him off. It hadn’t been a special ball in anyway; he just… missed. Blake dropped his bat with a loud thud onto the dirt and walked away. 

 

Tyler called after him, and he ignored it. He cared about Tyler, he knew it, and he knew without a doubt that Tyler cared about him -- but that wasn’t the problem. And no amount of Beaumont love could change the fact that the person he wanted to care didn’t.

 

He grabbed his bags from the bench and passed right by the locker rooms, not bothering to change. He was fine the way he was. Well. Okay, apparently  _ not, _ but he was too mad to worry about the sweat and the dirt. Even in the heat. None of it mattered.

 

It wasn’t until Blake hit the parking lot that he stopped. To be more precise - it wasn’t until he tripped over the curb that he hadn’t been paying attention to. He’d fallen and for a moment, just stayed like that. Sprawled out on the pavement. He flipped over onto his back and forced himself to stare straight at the sun for as long as he could -- which was about five seconds until his eyes started to hurt. Fortunately, a figure blocked the light after a moment, leaving him free to lay there longer.

 

“I was wondering if you w--” he started lazily, and then stopped, stopped suddenly because that wasn’t the person he thought it would be. It wasn’t Tyler -- it was Malek Solh.

 

He swallowed and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sunlight on his eyelids was almost comforting. Almost.

 

“What do you want?” he managed, quiet and practiced and hurt. He sounded every bit as broken as he wanted Malek to think he was -- and it was honest. It was real. It was Blake.

 

The light on his face got brighter; Malek had moved, and Blake opened one eye to check the position of his ex.

 

Malek was sitting on the curb, now, watching Blake’s face. He had been caught peeking. May as well open ‘em up fully. 

 

He pulled himself into a sitting position with barely a sound. He brought his eyes back to Malek’s, staring him down, trying to pour all of his intensity into it. His intention was to make Malek uncomfortable; but it was Mal’s quiet and pensive look that made Blake turn away, in the end.

 

“What do you want.” When he repeated it, it wasn’t a question. It was a demand -  _ give me what I want.  _ Or, even -  _ just give me something, please. _

 

“Why do you treat him like that? What has he actually fucking done to you?”

 

Blake was silent, but his expression darkened. Of course he didn’t care that Blake was upset. Could he be blamed for that? Even Blake knew his feelings weren’t fair. But being asked to admit it was too much. He hugged his knees to his chest.

 

“You care about him. Isn’t that enough?” He meant it to be just a personal comment, mumbled into his thigh, where no one could hear it but him. The resounding sigh told him that it wasn’t just him.

 

“Blake.”

 

“Malek,” he said sarcastically, but looked up anyway. 

 

Malek’s eyes were soft, and it made something in his chest ache. His grip on his legs tightened. Everything about Malek had been hard, heavy, hot while they were together. This was soft. This was light. This was a gentle warmth. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt.

 

“Why didn’t you look at me like that?” he asked quietly, fighting to keep both his gaze and his voice steady. “Why didn’t you ever -- “

 

He had to stop. He had to stop before his voice cracked. The feeling of tears was already beginning to well up, and he didn’t know if he could take that and not being able to control his voice. So he stopped.

 

Malek sighed, running a hand through the longer part of his bangs. Some of the hair stuck up a little when he finally brought his hand down.

 

“Look,” he started, leaning forward on his knees. “I cared about you. I  _ still _ care about you, Blake. I  _ love _ you. But - “

 

“But not as much as you love him,” Blake interrupted.

 

“Let me finish what I’m saying!” He was exasperated, almost at his limit in talking about this already. 

 

_ Same, _ Blake thought.  _ I’m also done talking about this. _

 

But he stayed silent.

 

“It’s just -- we weren’t good together. You know that. It didn’t matter how much we cared about each other; that made it so much  _ worse. _ That meant that every break up until the end was only temporary; that meant we would fall apart and crash back together, that much worse for the wear. We fed off of each other’s insecurities and we were  _ not healthy for each other. _ ”

 

Malek gave him a look after he finished talking along the lines of  _ Right? _

 

“Yeah,” Blake admitted unhappily. “I know.”

 

“But Dally -- Dallas is… also really insecure. But in a different way. He’s so -- “ Malek gestured, helpless for words.

 

“Practically perfect in every way,” came the mocking response.

 

“No! And that’s just it -- he’s  _ not perfect, _ and he owns up to it. You want everyone to think you have no flaws -- he doesn’t like his, but he doesn’t try to pretend they don’t exist. He doesn’t…” Malek stopped and sighed. He let his hands fall to rest between his knees.

 

“He doesn’t blame everyone else,” Blake finished for him. “Like me.”

 

Malek graciously didn’t agree, but they both knew that he did. Blake let go of his legs. He pushed himself up from the pavement, hands hurting from the heat and the pressure. They were sweaty and he slipped a little.

 

“I’m fine,” he said in response to a concerned look from Malek. “Look, just -- I. Yeah”

 

He couldn’t bring himself to apologize. He wanted to, almost. For once, he wanted to apologize. He wanted Malek to know that he  _ knew  _ this wasn’t okay. He wanted to tell him that Dallas was actually a pretty cool kid. He wanted a lot of things. And none of them were ever going to get said.

 

This one, though. This one, Malek knew. Malek  _ saw. _ And he offered the smallest of smiles Malek Solh could give. He stood, too, a couple inches taller than Blake; hardly anything, when you got down to it. He offered his hand out and Blake eyed it before deciding it was safe to shake. The surprise came when Malek grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t resist it; it was something he hadn’t even realized he had needed. A hug.

 

He would never admit it to anyone, and he swore Malek to secrecy on the matter, but he cried. He broke down, right there, in his ex boyfriend’s arms; he cracked like an egg. He apologized over and over through the salt water until Malek had Blake’s face in his hands and was telling him firmly that it was okay. It was going to be okay.

 

And as they walked back to the dugout together, not friends again but maybe on the way to being something like that, Blake thought maybe it really was.

 

The next week, Malek was declared missing. The week after, dead. And Blake felt like nothing could ever be okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> fisonfsf ???? it was a very cathartic thing to write and then i wanted to add something less happy so


End file.
